A New Beginning
by Bint Nayeli
Summary: Gemma leaves England for a chance to get away from her past and explore the world. She's in New York for a fresh start, but can she really escape her past? Find out what exactly Gemma might be up to after TSFT.
1. Chapter 1

A New Beginning

Chapter One

"Excuse me!" a manly, yet childish voice called. "Excuse me! Miss! You there…with the carrot hair! "

Whoever this man was, he had the audacity to call me 'carrot hair', and I would have to turn around if I didn't want to seem like an imbecile, because this man was quite persistent.

"Miss!" The voice said again, more softly this time, sounding calmer. It was a Negro man, he was tall and had a large build, his skin was dark and his breathing seemed labored, as though he had been running. He came closer and I could see that he was wearing a cream colored shirt and dark brown trousers.

"May I help you?" I asked trying to seem as though I was familiar with this city, of course, my accent made the attempt sound completely ludicrous.

"Well…I was just thinking that I could help you." The man said gesturing to some of the boxes I was carrying.

"That's very kind of you sir, but carrot headed women are a lot stronger than we may look to be."

"I find that hard to believe, miss. You look as though food could do you some good, as well as a person who knows his way around this town."

I was actually expecting an apology for being referred to as 'carrot head', not being insulted more about my appearance. My sixteen year old body didn't leave me, although I had developed a more womanly figure, I was still tall and skinny as I'd always been. I didn't even know whether or not to deem this man indecent, because he seemed shy in his own strange manner, however he did not hesitate to comment on my appearance.

"And may I ask, why you would do such a thing for a woman you don't know?"

"I just got back from my momma's house, Miss. And to be honest, I would like to forget her as soon as possible. I look for and do anything that's the opposite of my momma... an English woman who is young, not scary, lost, and looks like she would appreciate _my _help." The man said this as though it was a compliment, and I'm sure the only reason I accepted it as a compliment was because it was refreshing to hear this man insult another woman besides myself.

Surprisingly, I adopted this strange man's careless and casual style. I put my boxes in his hands, as though he was someone I knew for a long time. I only chose to accept his offer because this was a public place, full of people, I could easily scream and run if I had to."I'm staying at the Liberty Inn, and then show me somewhere where there is food that is meant for an ass."

The man smiled , "Liberty Inn it is! I know my way all around this city, New York, she's a beauty, yes she is. I might even love her more than my momma." This man's casual attitude did not waver at all, and I was surprised that I actually enjoyed his company.

"By the way," he said "My name is Norman Morris Jones."

"Gemma Doyle," I replied.

I continued walking with Norman and he continued talking about his mother and church, how everyone at church thought his mother was an angel, but his momma was a scary woman, who would still slap his face, but since she could no longer reach Norman's face, she would do so only when he was sitting.

"So why did you leave your country, Miss?"

"To go to a school and become a proper lady."

"Aren't you a bit old for that, Miss? But I guess I could see why they might still want to send you."

"Mr. Jones! I've already graduated from a finishing school, and I consider India my country!"

"Call me Norman, and…you're Indian? Why Miss, I've never seen an Indian before! I've always wanted too! But Miss, you look just like them white folks, has anyone ever told you that?"

"Mr. Jo-…Eh, Norman, I was raised in India as a child because my father worked there, and at times it seems as though I know that culture far better than the British culture, which I assume people would say is my _real _culture, because my father is an Englishman. And call me Gemma."

"I see, Gemma. Well then, why did you leave England?"

"I am telling you this only because I trust you, Norman. I am a fugitive on the run." I said this looking Norman straight in the eye, make a solid effort to keep my composure, but after a moment or two we both burst out in laughter.

We reached the Inn, and I led him inside, I inserted my key into the keyhole and told Norman to leave the boxes right by my bed.

"Thank you very much, Norman."

"Your welcome, Gemma. Are you still hungry? I could show you a good place to eat."

"Thank you, Norman. I actually am quite hungry." We both began walking towards the exit of the Inn, and I had a feeling people were already wondering why an English woman was laughing so casually with a Negro man.

"Norman, I'm actually looking for an apprenticeship. Do you know anyone who would be offering a position?"

"Well, I do know a man who is looking for a stable boy. You wouldn't want to do that, would you? What exactly are you looking for?"

"Well, I'm actually interested in writing, a journalist perhaps? Do you know any newspapers that need a reporter?"

"No, I don't. There is a painter, though. He is looking for someone to take care of his studio, and often times he likes to paint people. He likes assistance with his painting. He lives on _top _of a journalist, who already has an apprentice whom, I know very well."

"Really? Well, that sounds like the best opportunity I could get, the best opportunity all week, in fact."

"Well, he lives right around here, Miss. We can go now if you like."

"Would he mind my coming unannounced?"

"Not at all, I know him quite well actually."

"Well, I suppose we should go see him, then." Right when I said this, I realized that I would have to wait for my lunch. This was more important, though.

We walked further for another two minutes, and reached the apartment where this painter lived. I then realized I didn't ask Norman what this painter's name was.

"Norman, what's his name?"

"Dung."

"Dung?"

"Dung."

"I can't just call him Mr. Dung! That can't be his real name!"

"You are right, you can't call him _Mr. _Dung. Just, Dung. He hates proper people."

"So I should walk in and say, 'Hello, Dung. I'm Gemma Doyle.'"

"Exactly!" Norman said, without a trace of humor in his voice. What was I doing anyways? I was walking around town with a strange man, who I knew nothing about, accept for the fact that he could be half mad.

* * *


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

Chapter 2

I felt more and more pity for myself, as I waited outside Dung's door. I was at the door of a man whom I didn't know but sounded odd, and on top of that I came here under suggestion of a man who was strange on so many levels. Yet for the strangest reason, I felt comfortable with Norman, perhaps his lunacy was contagious. I felt nervous now, and finally the door opened suddenly, bringing a gust of warm air to my face. A tall gentleman with spectacles and a mustache opened the door, he was quite well dressed, and I found it hard to believe that his name could be Dung. Behind him stood a girl who looked timid and reminded me of myself, the way she hugged her books to her chest and her fingernails looked chewed and nibbled on like mine; she had to be close to my age.

"Hello, Sir," Norman said cheerfully, though it didn't sound very sincere, his voice did not seem to hold the same excitement it held when he spoke to me.

"Norman." The man replied, not hiding what seemed like disapproval for Norman. He had a deep and husky voice, and to my surprise a thick English accent as well. How could I take such a serious man seriously when his name was Dung?

"Sir, I would like you to meet my friend, Miz Gemma Doyle."

"Miss Doyle, a pleasure to meet you," Said the man, turning to me, the irritated look that had to be caused by Norman dissolving from the surface of his face.

"The pleasure is all mine…" my voice trailed off, I could not call this man Dung, I curtsied to hide my discomfort.

"Miz Doyle, this is Sir Anthony Raven," Norman said, probably sensing my confusion, "and that, behind him, is Miz Louisa Scott."

"It's a pleasure," said Louisa, still hugging her books to her chest as she came forward.

"Likewise, Miss Scott," I replied.

Mr. Raven took a step back to let us in, and as he did, Louisa flinched; she seemed like a rather jumpy person. Mr. Raven, however, took no note of this. He lead us out of the foyer, and opened a door to a small, tasteful parlor.

"So how can I help you Miss Doyle?" Mr. Raven asked with a smile on his face, his eyes focused on me. He really did seem like he wanted to help.

"Well…I…" I turned to Norman for a little help, I wasn't too sure what to say.

"Miz Doyle was looking for an apprenticeship, Sir." Norman said.

"Ah, Miss Doyle, if only you had come a year earlier, I might have offered you an apprenticeship, but as you can see, Miss Louisa, here has taken on the job for quite a while." His smile did not waver, "I do however, know of someone who might be able to be a help," Mr. Raven's smile finally moved, the expression on his face now matched the expression he had when he saw Norman. I had a feeling he was thinking of Dung.

"Follow me, Miss Doyle," Mr. Raven gestured with the wave of his hand. I followed him back to the foyer where there was a narrow staircase on the far end. "Go straight up these steps, and knock on the door on your left, and tell the man exactly what you are looking for. I'm sure he will appreciate help from such a pretty and youthful lady like yourself."


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

I had the door knocker cradled between my two fingers, I was afraid of what the man behind this door would be like. I probably wouldn't be so fearful of asking this man for an apprenticeship, had it not been an idea of Norman's. When I followed my gut, I found myself trusting Norman, however when I thought logically, it would take everything in me not to slap myself across the face.

Norman slapped my hand away from the door knocker, "Uh-ah-ah"

"Wha-"

"No formalities remember?" Norman said with a smile on his face, showing off his large pearly teeth.

"Oh, that's right."

"Go on, then, just open the door; kick it if you'd like."

"This is too...odd, Norman. I don't mind being casual, but this is rather hasty for a person who has been able to find absolutely no job in the past week."

"You'd best get used to it Miz Doyle, or Dung will get sick of you before you know it."

"Well, then you do it."

"Alrighty."

Norman pushed the door open with a smirk on his face, to taunt me for being so afraid to do such a simple task. I followed Norman in and stood behind him the entire time. "No-man!" A voice shouted, "Where did you go? I thought you were dead!"

"Nowhere at all, Dung, just around."

"So what do ya want, No-man?"

"Actually, my friend Gemma wants something."

Dung turned to me, he was the strangest little man I had ever seen. He was short and appeared to be Chinese, with a heavy accent. He had a thick head of graying hair, and though his habit of being extremely casual made me a uncomfortable, he still looked kind and warm.

"Hello, Dung." I said, surprised at how contagious Dung's and Norman's behavior was.

"Hello Gemma!" Dung replied in a tone that made it sound as though we saw each other every day.

"I-I wanted to know if you could offer me an apprenticeship."

"Huh?"

"An apprenticeship sir...uh, Dung."

"Huh?"

"An app-rent-ice-ship?"

"Wha?!"

"An apprenticeship."

"WHAT?!"

"An apprenticeship."

"WHAT THE-"

"_AN APPRENTICESHIP!!_"

"Okay." Dung said in the calmest voice I had ever heard in the last thirty seconds.

"Huh?"

"Okay. Do you know what that means? It means, Gemma you are hired."

"That's all I had to do?"

"Is it?"

"What?"

"What?"

"Shut up! When do I start?"

"Tomorrow." Dung said, with a smile.

"Okay."

"I need to interview you first, though."

"But you already hired me,"

"Exactly, Gemma."

"Wha- oh, alright."

Dung asked predictable questions...I did not predict that. "Why do you want to work for me?"

"Where were you born?" "How old are you?" "Did you like India?" "Why New York?" "How did you meet No-man?" "What are your interests?" "Where are you staying?" "Do you mind pigs?" "Do you mind spicy foods?" "Do you like to cook?" "_Can _you cook?" "Can you sew?" "What work are you willing to do?" "Would you mind sharing a room with Louisa?" "What is that noise?" "Why didn't you ask for food?" "Does your stomach always growl so loud?"

After Dung's thorough interrogation, I concluded that i was a magnet to lunatics. Secretly, I was rather glad to escape the suffocating and phony lifestyle of the elite and wealthy. I was used to things that were out of the ordinary, (if you consider visions and having the ability to enter different realms, have contact with secret organizations, learn things from your mother's killer, and in a way interact with the dead, then I am definitely accustomed to the unusual.) There had to be something special about today. Today was like a day of miracles, I ran into someone as kind, helpful, and strange as Norman and got a job from Dung, who was...Dung. I learned that he was actually a widower, and had no children of his own. He expected me to buy his paint and make the perfect texture, clean his brushes, clean his canvas, arrange all of his supplies, clean his studio, and provide inspiration and criticism. He also said he wanted me to cook, and fix up some of his clothes and though I told him several times that I can't do either one well, he remained persistent so I just shut up. He told me I was to share a room with Louisa and though he did not like formalities, he hated it when people were late. I was to begin working by 9:00 AM and the latest he might ever make me work was until 11:00 PM, and that was very rare. He told me that I might have to put formal manners to use every so often when he had to unveil his work to buyers...another thing that he abhorred. I began my work for Dung within the next four days, and Norman was to help me shift to Dung and Mr. Raven's apartment building. Dung's flat was on the top floor, he had his studio, and his room was a tiny room that was directly across the studio. Mr. Raven had the entire main floor, which consisted of a parlor, a kitchen, two bedrooms and a dining room. The room that I was to share with Louisa was actually more of a cellar, but it had been renovated and cleaned so people could live in it instead of mice and spiders.

I went downstairs after Dung's brief interview, and as I was reevaluating the interview in my head, I stopped watching where I was going and walked straight into Mr. Raven.

"Aah!" I yelped before realizing this was my fault.

"Miss Doyle, forgive me, I am terribly sorry." He said earnestly.

"It was entirely my fault, there is absolutely no need for apologies. Please excuse my clumsiness."

"Well Miss Doyle, we must have something in common."

"Mr. Rav-"

"Forgive my interruption Miss Doyle, but I feel absolutely terrible for not offering you any tea. These Americans seem to have lost their appreciation for it, however I am confident that you have not abandoned the English love for tea."

"Thank you, Mr. Raven, but I must decline you-"

"Miss Doyle, I cannot take 'No' for an answer, I insist."

"Alright then, I guess one cup would be fine."

"Right this way, Miss Doyle." Said Mr. Raven, leading me into the parlor.

I sat down in a lavish looking chair directly across from him. Mr. Raven pulled out a cup with a saucer and began to say something, and at that moment, Norman walked, or rather barged into the room.

"Miz Doyle! You got the job! Ain't Dung great? Oh, I forgot! We were supposed to get you something to eat! Well, Miz Louisa was going now, she invited you to come along!"

Norman's offer sounded far more tempting than making small talk with Mr. Raven, and I was hungry. I made my insincere apologies to Mr. Raven and set out with Norman and Louisa for what would hopefully be a large, delicious, delectable lunch.


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

Chapter 4

Norman, Louisa, and I left Mr. Raven's residence to go eat somewhere that both Norman and Louisa said had phenomenal food. As we were going to this mysterious eatery that Norman and Louisa both refused to tell me the name of, I began to learn more about Louisa.

"So, Miss Scott, how do you and Norman know each other?"

"Well, I actually met Norman because he used to see Dung very frequently, and I had been living in the apartment building working for Mr. Raven for quite a long time. Oh, and please call me Louisa, Miss Doyle, if we are to be living together I don't think you should be calling me 'Miss Scott'." Louisa said this, to my surprise, with ease, she seemed far more comfortable than before. She still had a very quiet voice, though, and she was still rather timid, but definitely not as jumpy.

"Here we are!" Norman said.

We were standing in front of a tiny house, it was definitely not the most luxurious of houses was all I could say. It still seemed inviting and comfortable, though. There was the pungent smell of onions coming from the house; reminding me I was no longer hungry, but famished.

"Whose house is this Norman?" I asked.

"Why, Gemma, this is my house!"

"Well then who is cooking?"

"That would be my wife, Ruby."

"You're married?" I asked stupidly.

Norman held up his hand, and I saw that there was in fact a ring on his finger. I probably took no notice of this earlier because I found it slightly hard to believe that there was a woman in the world that could find someone as blunt as Norman romantic. It could be possible that Norman loved his wife enough to make an effort to watch what he was saying.

The three of us entered the tiny home, and saw a young woman stirring something in a large pot. She had skin as dark as Norman's, but it seemed to have a golden undertone that made her look angelic. She had long eyes that slanted upward a little, and thick dark lashes. Her hair was very curly and black, which she had held back by tying a pink sash around her curls and then allowed the sash to hang at the nape of her neck. Norman walked up to her, wrapped his arms around her waist, and kissed her cheek.

"Who did you bring this time, Norman?" Ruby said flatly.

"Louisa." Norman replied.

"Oh, Louisa! Sweet li'l girl." Ruby said this all without turning her head once to acknowledge Louisa, she seemed to be concentrating on the food, but her excitement still seemed sincere.

"I also brought someone else," Norman said.

"Who?" Asked Ruby, still stirring whatever was in the pot.

"This is Gemma Doyle." Ruby finally turned around.

"Hello, Gemma, it's good to meet ya."

"It is a pleasure to meet you, too." I replied, reminding myself not to curtsy. This woman had said or done nothing to me, but she had an aura that intimidated me.

Ruby smiled, "_Plezhaah_." She repeated, imitating my accent perfectly. I didn't know what to say, so I replied with a fake giggle.

"London?" Ruby asked.

"Yes, how did you know?"

"Because that's the only city I _do _know." Ruby said, laughing.

"I don't blame you." I said, this time I was truly laughing.

"You don't like it?"

"Not as much as India."

"Aaah, so you were a colonist there."

"You…could say that." I said, admitting to myself that though I loved my time there, I always had the luxury of not living like the common man.

"Do you know any Hindi?"

"Very little, I've forgotten most of it." I was rather shocked by Ruby's knowledge, India was on the other side of the world, yet she knew so much.

"Well," Ruby said sighing, "We'd best start eating…New Orleans style gumbo. It's better than Norman's momma's."

"I'll admit it, 'cause she's not here." Norman said sheepishly.

I had now figured that I did not want to meet Norman's mother. We all sat down at a long wooden table as Ruby placed a large pot in the middle. When Ruby put the pot down, I saw that she had a large and round belly. She was pregnant.

Ruby saw me looking, and made me feel like an idiot, "I think it's going to be a boy."

I didn't know how to reply to Ruby's ability to read my mind, so I simply said the first thing I could think of. "How do you know?"

"I can feel it. I'm the mother."

"Your baby will be a fortunate child." I said. I didn't know why I said that, but I felt a need to say it. I stared down into my bowl, trying to disassociate myself from the extreme silence I had just caused.

"That's too nice of ya, Gemma." Ruby said with a compassionate look in her eyes. "Oh! And I want you to be the first to try this; I know that you never tried this kinda gumbo."

"Can't say I have." I said, grabbing the ladle, pouring the thick, soupy mixture into my bowl.

"You do eat meat, right? Or did you pick up the no meat rule from them Hindus? That's chicken by the way."

"Oh, I couldn't live without meat, though it's not very _ladylike._" I laughed as I said this, and even wrinkled my nose a bit when I said the word.

"Good." Ruby said, as she pulled out a chair near the window. I noticed that it was actually quite dark outside, and that this was not my lunch, but dinner. I must have spent a lot of time in Dung's interrogation room.


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5

The sun was setting, and the sky was a gorgeous pink color. There was still light out, so I enjoyed my solitude as I walked back to the inn on my own. I had loved Ruby's gumbo; it had a sharp flavor, and actually had a little spice in it, reminding me of the food in India. Perhaps I would actually say a prayer tonight. I wanted God to know that I was thankful for allowing me to meet five very helpful people. I thought of what I said to Ruby, that her child would be fortunate. I thought of my mother, I wondered if Mary Dowd felt anything during my infancy. Not Virginia Doyle, not the woman who was _supposed _to be excited about my first word, or my first steps. I wondered if Mary Dowd ever felt anything. Mary Dowd, the woman who gave me a burden to carry, a load that was so heavy, that not one soul would believe me if I told them what it was. It had been years since my mother's death, and though I had gotten many of the answers I was searching for, I had not completely forgiven my mother. I would have enjoyed thinking of myself as more noble, and forgiving my mother, but I hadn't. I couldn't. I thought of Norman and Ruby. I thought of Kartik. I thought of what it would be like to carry his child.

I cried a little as I walked back to my room and inserted my key into the keyhole. This was a day of happiness, but somehow, everything I did or said led my mind back to bittersweet times. I changed into my nightgown and kneeled next to my bed. I clasped my hands together and started to whisper. "The man I love is far, far away. Should I still hope? Should I still believe that these worlds that we live in are not so awful?"

I splashed some water on my face, and then lied down in my bed. It was at that moment that I vowed to do whatever I possibly could to change Kartik's fate. I was betraying him by not trying to find a solution, by allowing him to be locked in a tree. I didn't know where I would start, or what I would do, but I knew I had to try.

I came here to attend a University, and I would when the fall came. I would also get a chance to find a place to live, learn things from Dung, and even get paid and become independent. I would not have to explain who I was to anyone, this was still a new beginning. No one would hinder my efforts to save Kartik, this was meant to be. Everything was supposed to happen like this, things are falling into place, aren't they? I couldn't think of all this right now. I couldn't make vows and promises I couldn't keep. I couldn't think about whether or not freeing Kartik was possible or not. I couldn't. I couldn't face disappointment again. I couldn't let Kartik down.


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 6

"Gemma," a voice whispered, I could feel a large, warm hand on my arm, shaking me.

"What is it?" I asked.

"Look out the window." He said, tugging on my arm, and leading me to the window.

Kartik pulled the curtain aside, and pointed out to the sky that was an array of oranges, yellows, and a hint of purple. The sun was rising. "How," I stuttered "how did you come…here?" I asked, surprised at how I was so calm and how I hadn't asked this question before.

"Shhh, Gemma. Just watch, you have forgotten the beauty of the world that you already live in."

"Kartik, you can't expect me to-"

Kartik sighed a surrendering sigh; he turned towards me and stared straight into my eyes. "Gemma, no one must know I'm here. No one, do you understand? I'm not supposed to be here. Just think of this as one of the many times that I used to creep into your window at Spence."

"But-"

"When the sun has risen completely, I'll be able to stay here with you; I'll be able to live here with you. Just pretend we're back at Spence."

"KARTIK! THIS IS NOTHING LIKE SNEAKING INTO SPENCE! THIS IS NOT THE SAME! IN ENGLAND YOU LIVED IN WOODS ONLY A FEW MILES AWAY! RIGHT NOW YOU ARE IN A DIFFERENT _WORLD!_" As I finished yelling, I heard a pounding at the door. It wasn't a frantic pounding, it was a pounding with such a rhythm that it sounded as though it was coming from someone more powerful. The pounding continued, it got harder and harder, angrier and angrier, louder and louder.

Kartik's head snapped towards the door, "Now you've done it Gemma. I have to go." He turned his back to me and faced my window. The window immediately turned into a door of light.

"Kartik! I'm sorry! Come back! What can I do to bring you back?"

"I'm sorry, Gemma. I tried to save myself. I tried to fix things; I just wasn't meant to come back to you, was I?"

"KARTIK!" I screamed, my voice higher and louder than I had ever heard it before, I tried to grab his shirt, but he leaped forward towards the door of light, and the back of his shirt ripped; leaving me with a little piece of cloth. I was left with a scrap of Kartik's shirt, the only remainder I had of Kartik. I clutched the cloth in my hand, as though I was afraid that it would run away, too.

I awoke with a jerk, drenched in sweat. I was clutching my blanket. "Kartik." I whispered to myself. I brought my knees up to my chest and rocked myself back and forth, until I fell asleep again.

When I awoke the next morning, I did not remember the dream right away. Once I remembered the dream and how I awoke sweating, I immediately took a bath. I sat in the lukewarm water for some time, not moving at all. It was relaxing, I almost felt as though my stress was washing off of me, along with the impurities on the surface of my skin. I stretched out in the bathtub, and rested my head on the edge of it. I reviewed everything that had happened in the dream in my head, over and over again, I wanted to remember every single detail. I thought of what Kartik said, that he tried to save _himself_,that _he _tried to come to _me. _What if I was supposed to go to him? What if the dream was a confirmation that I was supposed to save Kartik, and not expect him to save himself. However, it could just be like any other meaningless dream. But who was I kidding? I'm Gemma Doyle, I don't have normal dreams.

I had decided to stop making pointless vows, I couldn't do this. I needed to move on. It was just the heat of the moment that got me riled up about "saving" my love. Kartik would want me to be happy. I had to stop clinging to my past, and simply move on. I could not destroy my chance at a new beginning.


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter 7

"Right there would be fine, Norman." I said, as Norman lugged my boxes filled with books to a corner of the room that Louisa and I would share.

Louisa was standing by the door, overseeing all this. "Louisa, I feel horrid for not allowing your room to be as spacious as it was before."

"Don't be Gemma, don't be at all. I am dying to have company here." Louisa stressed the word "dying", the way she said it, she was sincere about having a roommate. I noticed Louisa was still far more jumpy here than she was at Norman and Ruby's house, and she spoke in a quieter voice, too. I hoped that Louisa wasn't extremely picky about keeping everything in its place, however from what I saw so far, she wasn't. "Well, Miz Doyle, that's everything. Is there anything else you can think of for me to bring?" Norman said politely, even though the look in his eyes told me that he would not be more than happy to bring another box up. There was another box at the bottom of the staircase, but I could bring it up myself.

"No, that will be all, and thank you so much for helping me move my things here." I said, graciously. Upon hearing this, Norman's stance immediately relaxed, and I started to feel guilty about torturing him.

After Norman left, and I brought my final box up, I stood at the end of the room and took a long look at it. The walls had no pictures, but there was maroon wallpaper. There were two beds in the room, each in an opposite corner. There was a wardrobe next to each bed and towards the front of the room sat a screen to change behind, and next to the screen was a mirror. The room was quite ordinary, the nicest thing about the entire room was probably the window, and the tiny fireplace that would keep us warm during the harsh winters.

My routine would be quite simple, on weekdays I was to be inside Dung's studio by 9 o'clock, I was to have all the paint organized, the colors should be ready with the proper texture by 10 o'clock. After that I was to help Dung keep his set in order, and ensure that the lighting was perfect for his painting. I had to organize all of his unveiling events for him, and on days that he was busy, I was supposed to bring his food up to his studio. The cook would make breakfast for me, Louisa, and Dung at 7 o'clock. Because Mr. Raven was the owner of the building, he had privileges, the cook would take his breakfast into his room at around twelve o'clock.

The days came and went as I worked in Dung's studio. I did as I was told, yet Dung still seemed dissatisfied. Occasionally, Louisa and I would go to Norman and Ruby's home for dinner, and even help her out with her cooking, she didn't like being on her feet for too long. Louisa and I got along fine, mainly because I didn't see much of her. She seemed to work a lot, because she was never there when I went to sleep, and always up before I was. She seemed to love the water, it was as though she was always taking a bath in her spare time. I didn't eat very much, I didn't read either. I just slept. If I had nothing to do I would sleep. My hair started falling out, and I had dark circles under my eyes. I didn't notice that I had fallen into this routine until Dung said, "Gemma could you get me that vase please?" I went to a table in the corner of the room and brought Dung the glass vase, it had a single flower in it. "Have you been watering this?" He asked me as he stroked the stem of the flower.

"No, you told me not to."

"I did, didn't I?"

"Mmmhhhmm." Where was he going with this?

"Do you know why I told you not to?" He asked.

"Shall I take a guess?"

"No, I don't really care, because you probably won't get it."

"Oh."

"Gemma, look at this flower. You are no different, this flower is dry, it has no color, no zest, nothing. I told you not to water it, so you might see what you refuse to see every time you look in the mirror."

I said nothing, I didn't know what to say.

"Gemma, there is always something that can be done, no matter how big your problems are. Do what you have to do, to restore yourself, your spirit."

"Alright." Was all I said, and I left the room.

I sat on my bed thinking about what Dung had told me. I left the apartment, and walked to an abandoned restaurant that I had walked past many times with Louisa. I did the only thing that I could think of. I walked around to the back end of the restaurant and I summoned the door of light.


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter 8

Chapter 8

I walked through the door of light with my eyes squinted. The realms' beauty hadn't changed since the last time I'd come. The colors were bright, sharp and vivid; like Dung's paintings. I felt as though I was going through somewhat of a culture shock, the air didn't carry a stench, but a texture and a taste. I was intoxicated by the clear air of the realms.

I stood still, slowly taking everything in. I felt a wave of sadness come over me at the thought of my mother. I used to come here remembering her. I came here in search of my mother, with whom I was furious with, but loved still. And now I was here in search for another person I loved, and lost. But this time, I would bring my beloved back. I would.

I wanted to be like Norman and Ruby. They were together, and happy. I wondered how a woman as sensible as Ruby would not be infuriated by Norman, but surely everyone else would wonder how I fell for Kartik, who was of a social standing far lower than mine.

I looked down at myself and saw that I was now wearing a purple saari with golden embroidery. I touched the soft cotton, and ran my finger across the intricate gold edges. I had on golden and purple bangles, and my hands were covered in henna. As I admired my hands, a tear fell into it. There were two strange things: one, I didn't even notice that I was crying, and two, my tear stayed a droplet; it didn't splash into my hand. It stayed in perfect shape, round on the bottom and pointed on the top. I stared, not knowing what to do with my tear. I looked at it more closely, and saw my mother.

"Mother!" I shouted, not even realizing how ridiculous I must look, no matter what realm I happened to be in. She could not hear me. She was holding me in her arms shortly after my birth. Her hair was longer than I remembered, and she looked livelier, too. Then, all the colors in the droplet collided into each other, making swirls and then reassembling themselves into a new image. The next was an image of me, my face angry and frustrated, and my mother giving me her necklace of the crescent eye. Again, the colors collided into each other making swirls, and became a new image. This one was also of myself; my facial expression softening and my eyes brightening at the sight of Kartik. And the colors performed their dance again, making their final image. It was of me standing before the border of the winterlands… and I couldn't look anymore, I clapped my hands together, when I pulled my hands apart, there was nothing there, just moisture.

How could I possibly save him? I lied down in the lush grass, closing my eyes and tasting the air of the realms. It was sweet and cool, the grass beneath me was prickly, but in a soothing way. I opened my eyes and stared at the perfect sky, forcing my mind to go blank and listened to the steady pulse of the realms. I saw a butterfly hover before my nose and I rose up to catch it, like a possessed child I ran after the butterfly, I reached out to catch it and suddenly I couldn't breathe. There was a hand clamped over my mouth and nose, and a powerful arm wrapped around my waist. I tried to scream but my voice was completely muffled, I kicked my legs, trying to feel the ground, but I was being lifted up by this creature, the sensation of kicking empty air filled my heart with fear. I could not turn my head to see who had grabbed me because I was being held so tightly, I tried to bite the hand that was clamped over my mouth, but my mouth filled with fur. I continued kicking my feet until everything went black.

I awoke on a dirt floor next to a fire, I tried to sit up, but every part of my body ached and felt sore. Still, with much effort, I managed to sit up, surprised to see that I was not tied up. I looked around me and saw that I must be in a teepee; everything around me seemed to have a tincture of red because of the fire that had been lit. Through a slit in the walls that seemed to be made out of animal skin I saw that wherever I was, it was completely dark. I started to sweat, because I had no idea where I was and I was also sitting next to a fire.

"You are awake," said a deep and raspy voice.

I whimpered a bit at the sound of the intimidating voice, but gathered the courage to turn my head and see where the voice had come from. At the far end of the teepee, opposite of where I sat, I saw a large man who looked completely human, but his eyes made it clear that he was not. He had eyes like a cat's that were a deep yellow with vertical slits. His hair was a yellow orange, and he wore tan colored trousers that stopped at his knees. He sat cross-legged and I saw that there was a woman sleeping with her head resting in his lap, she wore a dress made of animal skin that seemed to barely cover her legs.

"Why?" I said, and this man had to know what I meant by that.

"Why did you come here?" he said, as if ignoring my question completely.

"To kill you." I answered curtly.

Thankfully the man caught onto my joke. He grinned, showing teeth that were to my surprise, completely normal.

"How could you possibly ask me why I've come here, when you were the one that brought me here?" I asked, not knowing what answer to expect.

"I mean to the realms, how did you come to the realms?"

"I have that power, I can't believe you haven't heard of me before."

"What name do you go by?" He said, his catlike eyes staring past me, making me feel minute and irrelevant.

"Gemma Doyle," I said, even though my name was well known the way the man looked at me…or didn't look at me, made me feel that I wasn't that important.

"You are important," said the man, finally looking at me, "somewhere else," he finally added.

"I don't want to burden you or be an inconvenience, but why have you brought me here?"

"You are our sacrifice."

I almost laughed, me, a sacrifice; me, the person who had the power to enter the realms as well as the living world.

The man looked serious, so I asked, "Why me?"

"We need the blood of a living virgin, one who is not prisoner to the superficial beauty of these realms."

"And how do you know I am not a 'prisoner'?" I asked calmly, I knew this had to be a mistake.

"My tribe has the ability to see the purity of a person's heart or soul. It is us who decides how fortunate a person's afterlife will or will not be."

"Why do you need a sacrifice?"

"We must prove our sincerity to the realms, there is no other people that could possibly do what we can."

I laughed, I might have been scared, but I was not about to allow this man to see that. We both had our pride.

"When is this sacrifice?" I asked.

He smiled, "You're awake now…so perhaps," he grinned "now."


	9. Chapter 9

Chapter 9

A woman bathed me and then rubbed me with an oil that smelled like a heavy, woodsy, musk. When she pulled me up, I saw that she was the same woman who was asleep in the man's lap. Her eyes had slits like his and those catlike eyes seemed perpetually expressionless, or perhaps she was just hard to read. She dressed me in a white dress with a length similar to her dress, which, to be honest, had a length that was a bit too immodest for me. She may have sensed my discomfort but the more logical assumption would be that she put a long, loose fitting, satin robe over my dress, the color of pearl, because it was tradition. She took my shoulders and turned me around, she looked straight into my eyes and I had to make an enormous effort to look into the slits in her eyes. For a moment, I thought she might actually say something to me; she hadn't spoken a single word to me the entire time. But she just stared at me, except this time, for the first time, it was with worry. At that moment, I felt stupid and I also grasped the horrid reality that was presently taking place. The woman finally lowered her gaze and sighed in a surrendering way, which was probably the most discomforting thing she could do. She then walked me to the door of the tent and gave me a little shove, for a moment I actually thought it was supposed to be reassuring. But who needed reassurance when they knew they were going to die, death is death, it can't get any worse. I emerged from the tent and I saw a crowd of people standing behind the man I first met, the men with yellow- orange hair.

I walked towards him, not knowing what to expect, I felt numb, disillusioned, everything had happened so fast that I hadn't even the time for the reality of all this to sink in. I kept walking. I was not bound by any ropes or chains, I was not being held or dragged by anyone, I was only being watched.

I finally reached the man and he didn't say a word, no apology, no insults, nothing. He simply put his hands on my shoulders and forced me down onto my knees in front of the fire. Aside from the fire, there was nothing else, there was no one dressed formally, no wine, nothing that revealed that a human sacrifice was about to take place.

Seven other men came forward and stood next to the yellow-orange haired man, each of them stood on different ends of the fire, each one an arms length apart. They closed their eyes and started to chant and stomp their feet in rhythm with whatever they were saying. The chanting got faster and so did my heart beat, I began to perspire, and my stomach felt queasy to the point that I thought it would fall out through my bottom. I felt as though my cheeks were two large frying pans, and my body squirmed beneath my skin, I felt so ill that I thought my flesh might rip through my skin. I breathed heavily, and my eyes darted from one man to another. The chanting made them look as if they were in a trance, they began to sway to their left, and their bodies looked crooked. One man bumped into another, and neither one noticed, and they kept doing that, over and over again. One man even stepped on a piece of burning wood with his bare feet and showed no sign of pain.

The thought crept into my head, and I tried to push it away, knowing that it was stupid and ridiculous. But my skin felt like it would burst any moment and my stomach danced around in my body, and I was so desperate that I couldn't push the damned idea away. The idea to make a run for it.

But I was facing death anyways, if I was caught, the outcome would be the same, my death. So I slowly rose, my knees bent and my back arched. I moved a few steps back, then took the deepest breath possible and I charged through two men who looked like the weakest of the bunch. I hit one man's arm, and nearly bounced back, yet the man pulled his arm towards his chest yelping in pain. The other men seemed alarmed, and I tried to run, but my legs were so shaky that I fell on my face, and tasted dirt. I scrambled to my feet, which seemed to take so much longer than usual, and got up to run, but once I was barely a foot away, I felt somewhat restrained. A man had grabbed the end of my robe. I slid my arms out of it as fast as I possibly could and kept running, I heard no footsteps behind me, but it might have been because I was breathing so hard and my heart was beating so loud that I could feel it in the back of my head. I continued to run, my only destination being somewhere far away. I tried to summon the door of light but I felt to distracted and frazzled, and it was almost impossible to summon the door while running. Then, as if falling on my face wasn't enough, I tripped over my own feet and hit the ground. I fell so hard that I felt like the air couldn't reach my lungs.

My head hit something sharp and I fell into blackness.


	10. Chapter 10

I awoke only a few moments later, my cheek was bleeding a little. I thought back to running away from the camp, how I sprinted faster than I ever had, and was actually _running _for my life. It was strange that I even escaped at all, those men were strong, and there were many. They could have easily caught me, couldn't they? Perhaps it was the fear that was running through my blood, that made my body feel as though I could do nothing more but run. I stood up and tried to summon the door of light, but every time any light appeared in front of me at all, I felt like a hand reached into my throat and prevented any air from reaching me. I tried to swallow the pain and keep moving forward but the air felt so thin, I lost my focus and started to feel dizzy. I felt too weak to even summon the door again, but I tried anyway, and when I did, I felt a crack at the arch of my foot. I immediately jumped backwards and the door disappeared. I tried one more time and when the door reappeared, I tried to force myself through, but when I did, my entire leg went numb, and couldn't move further through the door. Once again, I lost complete control of the door, and it disappeared. My leg throbbed, now.

"WHAT THE BLOODY HELL IS GOING ON?!" I shouted, half expecting someone to emerge from the bushes and tell me what I did wrong, because, this was the realms after all.

No one came.

I kept walking straight, clueless about where I was going, feeling completely sorry for myself and how clueless I was.

I must have been walking for over an hour, and I saw nothing but trees, animals that didn't speak, nor did I see any people, but even on a normal visit to the realms, I wouldn't expect to see people. Suddenly, without warning, I was hit by an icy, stinging wind. The wind whooshed past me, and seemed to hiss in a bloodcurdling voice. It was quite obvious where I was now; I was at the border of the Winterlands. I was not dressed for a place with such a climate. I was meant to come here, I knew that much. There were many places I could have ended up in, and the Winterlands were just one of the many, I was lead here by the realms. And like a confirmation to the notion, a fleecy cloak appeared at my feet, along with a pair of thick boots, and a wool dress.

"Damn this place." I muttered to myself as I started to put on the boots. Then a tight slap struck my cheek, nearly knocking me off of my feet, but I knew from the familiar hiss, that it was the wind of the Winterlands. Then more gusts of wind came, knocking me around as though I was a piece of meat. The hissing became louder, and I soon realized that those hisses were words.

"Return with helpers."

"Go back, and return. You MUST RETURN!"

"You are not capable to do this alone."

"Return with helpers, for peace."

"Your escape was no coincidence."

"You must return, you haven't a choice."

"Summon light. Summon the light. And return."

"We await your return."

And with the final stinging gust of wind, I ran in the other direction, anywhere warmer, where the winds couldn't follow me. I tried to summon the door, and this time it was a painless effort, but the wind was coming closer, so I moved faster. I could hear the wind trying to follow me through the door, and shouting, "RETURN! Or we will enter without your help!"

I was behind the restaurant again, the sky was a deep, dark blue, I could see a few stars. "DUNG!" I shouted. "DUNG!" I shouted again as I started running towards the apartment.

"Gemma?" Said two voices, it was Norman and Dung. They emerged from the apartment door; I could hear Mr. Raven growling in the back about how Norman always caused chaos.

"Go inside! I must speak to you." I said.

***

"Now Gemma, I'd call you crazy, but my wife likes you, so I'm not going to call you crazy."

"Thank you, Norman." I said, so used to Norman's absurd comments that I'd feel a bit uneasy if he hadn't said something odd.

Dung stayed quiet. His eyes seemed to be studying the floorboards, and his silence frightened more than anything else.

"Dung?" I asked quietly.

"I need proof Gemma, I'm sorry, but I do, I've heard stories…but it always seemed like something I would never need to think about."

"I understand, I will give you proof when I take you with me. They just kept saying 'return with friends'."

"Why?" Norman asked.

I restrained my laughter, it was like asking why misfortune existed at all. "I must tell you both now, and remember that I am asking you because I have no one else even though I wouldn't want to burden you with what you will see. The realms are filled with desire, it's like the realms have a soul and all it wants to do is to have control over you. There is magic, there are things beyond our understanding and often times our naïve curiosity is exactly what leads to trouble. The realms are vicious, brutal, and beautiful all at the same time. It takes time to see the ugliness and hollowness that the realms are made of."

Dung sat quietly, he knew that what I was saying was not a matter that could be taken lightly.

Norman of course, was a little laid back "Can we eat before we go?" he asked.

***


End file.
